


A Poor Man's Arthur and Guinevere

by anotherbuskitten



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Gen, I know very little arthurian mythology, POV First Person, POV Second Person, Unreliable Narrator, Very AU, also i'm half asleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:34:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3973024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherbuskitten/pseuds/anotherbuskitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of the willow prank in a different universe. Also time travel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> what the hell did I just spend my time writing??

After Snape, after the willow, there’s only one thing that can rightly be done.

So the next morning ministry officials arrive and your wand is snapped. You don’t fight it.

Your mother comes to pick you up and take you home. You don’t bother to remind anyone that you’ve been disowned.

They lock you up. You lose track of the days but eventually you’re given a new wand. It feels wrong in your hands.

They force you to practice darker and darker magic. Eventually you’re blindfolded and taken somewhere new. You’re forced to your knees as the blindfold comes off.

You’re only half conscious as they speak. You know enough to nod in all the right places but even so you aren’t expecting the burn.

Perhaps if you had been you wouldn’t have fought it.

But you do fight it. With everything you have left you fight it.

And it’s only then that you realise what’s happening. What it is being branded onto your skin.

You try to scramble away but they’re holding tight. Tighter now that they’ve realised you won’t submit.

Why did you submit?

You try to picture James or Remus or Peter and find you can’t. You’re sickened to the core at what you’ve become.

You summon the last of your strength and transform. They’re surprised enough that for a moment their grips slacken.

You run.

/

When you open your eyes you’re in a wood. There’s a rabbit watching you. You bite down on it. You can’t remember the last time you ate.

The moon is full.

/

You think Hogwarts and run.

/

You aren’t at Hogwarts. You don’t know where you are.

It’s cold but you can hear laughter. There’s a pub. You transform.

It hurts. Everything hurts.

You twist your arm to see the mark. It’s burning red as though it had only just appeared.

You touch it. It burns.

You collapse before you reach the pub.

//

_It’s been a while since you came to Diagon. It’s louder than you remember._

_Your arm burns suddenly, white hot._

_There’s a flash of green and a scream. High laughter._

_You move without thinking. Automatically falling into a battle position._

_You see each other at the same time. His spell hits first and you stumble into someone in the crowd. They push you back. Are they expecting a saviour?_

_He laughs when your spell misses. Taunts you._

_“You think to fight me boy? You are mine!” Your arm burns._

_A cutting spell zooms past your arm severing the shirt arm from your skin. The mark burns again. You resist the temptation to look_

//

“That’s a strange tattoo.”

“Brand.” You say hoarsely. “I didn’t want it.”

“Is that why it’s red?”

You twist your head to look. “I’m still fighting it.”

Her hands move slowly over the mark. You wonder if it burns her too.

“One day you’ll be free.”

“One day all of Camelot will be free.”

///

_You fight easier now, with the mark showing you can pretend you’re somewhere no one will recognise it._

_You can pretend she’s behind you and you’re decimating the opposition._

//

What does it matter what you fight for when you know how it ends?

Camelot falls. Arthur dies. Guinevere dies. Merlin dies.

Morgana dies.

You can’t change a thing so it doesn’t matter what you do.

//

_You know this fight. You move in tandem to an imaginary army. The spell that comes at you is a new one._

_Merlin’s been messing around again._

_He’s always making new spells. He always forgets to make them strong enough._

_The spell hits. You gasp and shudder; the familiar landscape falling away, revealing Diagon and Voldemort and hordes of innocent people._

_You fire back easily. Fall back into the daydream. Pretend it’s the day of the attack again._

_You can win this time._

//

“Wait! If he doesn’t want to hurt you then why are you fighting him?”

“Are you stupid? He wants us all dead!”

“But he’s got a sorcerer on his side too!”

“ATTACK!”

The fight is shelved as the knight’s charge. It’s the two of you against Camelot’s armies.

The land is yours though and it’s easy enough to trick Arthur into a one-on-one.

“Expelliarmus!” His sword flips into a rock ledge and dislodges it.

It the shadow he looks like his sister. You grab his arm and _move_.

The two of you end up back in the fray. A knight grabs you and tears you apart from his king.

Across the battlefield Morgana screams. You imagine it’s for you. A sword touches your neck.

“Wait!” Arthur croaks. “Why did you save me?”

The sword disappears. You _change_ and run to her. Part of you thinks Hogwarts but you barely recognise it as a word.

_Morgana_

She holds you carefully and you turn back easily, fluidly, when you open your eyes you’re crying and she looks furious.

You wonder if she was worried.

/

By the time Camelot falls you’ve forgotten most of the stories you grew up with.

You can’t remember if Morgana was supposed to have died by now or not.

Maybe you’ve already changed things.

So what does it matter if you try to stop this.

/

Camelot falls. You can’t stop it.

You smuggle children out on boats and try to find Morgana in the crowd.

You can’t see her.

/

Arthur tells you to run. They’re only after sorcerers he says.

He’s lying. You don’t bother to call him out on it.

This is the second time you’ve failed this badly.

Behind you Morgana nods for both of you and grips your hand. She always was the stronger one.

/

You think _Hogwarts_ and try to focus on a different time. You try to conjure up James’ face.

Morgana asks you what you’re doing. She wasn’t supposed to be back until later.

You whirl and grab her.

There’s a sickening spinning feeling and when you open your eyes you’re both in London. Your London.

/

Grimmauld Place is empty. You herd her inside and tell the truth.

//

_“CRUCIO!” The spell hits and you scream for her._

_Your hand loosens and your wand falls. You’re no good with it anyway. You lash out blindly with the sort of magic you’re used to._

_Wild and strong and free and who cares if it hits someone it wasn’t supposed to?_

_Your hands curl into fists and your nails draw blood and pull on it because wasn’t that what this war was about?_

_You fling your hands out and scream half-forgotten spells at him. Droplets of blood splatter the cobblestones._

_Your eyes are half open and you think you can see Morgana’s hair in the crowd._

_You wonder why the stories always have her down as dark haired when she shines as brightly as her brother. Arthur is remembered correctly._

_Perhaps it’s because he didn’t run._

_/_

_You can’t move._

_Voldemort leans down in front of you and strokes your mark with his wand. It’s burning red again._

_“Still fighting it? You aren’t light, boy. You never will be.”_

_You let his words blur around you. It hurts more than ever before._

_You wonder if you could do it again. Fall through time for a third time. But where would you go?_

_No, better to die here._

_There’s a scream from behind you and Voldemort tips out of view. There’s a flash of gold in your vision but everything’s so blurry now and you’re so tired._

_You fall sideways and hit your head on the ground. Your vision spins and blurs even further._

_There’s a crack like a neck breaking and you’re being picked up._

_The hands around you are larger than Morgana’s and you try to call for her but can’t speak._

_Someone else is speaking to you. A familiar cadence. You think maybe James._

_You’re so tired._

///

I’m in another future building when I wake. Sirius is in a bed to my left, still sleeping. At least I hope he’s sleeping.

The future isn’t how I imagined it. Camelot isn’t standing. Magic isn’t free.

There’s another stupid war going on.

Most days we stay inside. Sirius says it’s his parent’s old house that they’re living in. He doesn’t know why they’re not there anymore.

He’d left by that time.

It’s strange to think of Sirius’ timeline, especially now he’s back in his own time. It’s even stranger to think of this as where he belongs considering that we stay in one building. Considering how free we were at Camelot.

There’s a small group of people standing in the doorway. Four men and a woman. They look around the age Sirius did when I first met him.

I raise a hand weakly and wave.

One of them breaks off and comes over.

“I’m James Potter.”

I nod, Sirius mentioned the name when he explained things, and it seems fitting that these people choose judgement for us. I’ll follow Sirius while we’re here.

He always had the good courtesy to follow me before.

/

Sirius is awake now and the people watching us have allowed us to crawl into bed together.

They keep almost starting conversations.

Sirius is unfocussed. He looks at me like I’m the sun.

“Are you going to kill us?” I ask in as stately a voice as I can manage.

They all look shocked and surprised. I don’t understand.

//

_Morgana is holding you. Faces you can never decide if you want to remember or forget swim in and out of view._

_You try to speak._

_“I didn’t want it.” Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth._

_Morgana understands._

_“He means the tattoo. That’s why it burns red; he’s fighting it.”_

_She always calls it a tattoo no matter how many times you correct her. If they responded you didn’t hear it._

_You speak again._

_“I think I’m dying.”_

_There’s a flurry of movement above you. Beside you Morgana pulls you close and tucks your head under her chin. You feel safe here._

_You think you wouldn’t mind dying like this._

//

I hold him as the strangers move about, calling for healers and help.

Sirius breathes in and out, shallowly. He’s been dying for a while, I think.

I lever us up and out of the bed.

“Can we go somewhere with trees?”

I don’t really expect an answer but they nod and lead us outside. We were in a castle. The view outside is beautiful.

I sit down and lean on the cool brick. Sirius slumps against me.

The tattoo is turning brown. _I feel like crying but don’t_. It’s the colour of dried blood.

His hands have blood on them.

I wonder what happened to the man we were fighting.

I wonder if he’ll see Arthur when he dies.

I wonder a lot of things.

/

“Can you forgive him?” I ask the five people in front of me.

They still look shocked, unbelieving, lost. I ask again.

“We did.” Says the tallest one. He’s scarred and there’s grey in his hair that shouldn’t be there. “Ages ago. But he was gone.”

I nudge Sirius lightly. “Do you hear that? You’re forgiven.” I hope he understands that I’m talking about all of it not just whatever happened here.

Sirius smiles and goes cold.

/

_The stories of your brother say that he’ll come back when Britain needs him. Well you’re a poor substitute for Arthur but you can fight and that will have to do._


	2. Morgana's Side

I’m in the tavern with my friends. Well, with Gwen and Merlin, who are each other’s friends; they are swapping stories and laughing. I am staring out the window.

There is a dog outside. It is staggering, dragging one leg. I watch it drag itself closer; I wonder if it can feel the warmth or smell the food or if it is just heading somewhere loud.

The dog turns into a man.

My gasp is swallowed by Merlin’s sudden laughter. I think ‘ _idiot’_ at someone; either Merlin or the dog.

I stand suddenly, announcing my desire to go back to the castle. Gwen stands as well, sadly. I wave her away. I say that I know the way back, that I will be fine, that she deserves a night off.

She grins, somehow loud, and thanks me. I wonder how she cannot tell I am twisting the truth; how she does not remember that I am not kind enough for that, that I am selfish to a fault.

/

The dog-man is lying on the ground. Perhaps it is a cunning ploy to be rescued by some bleeding-heart like my brother. Perhaps he is just a fool.

I lift him under the elbows and drag him far enough into the forest that no one staggering home from the tavern will see him.

I poke him lightly with a stick. When he makes no effort to wake I poke it into his injured leg.

His eyes snap open but he makes no sound of pain. I poke again, experimentally.

His eyes find my face and stare, uncomprehendingly.

“Is this Hogsmeade?” His voice is like gravel, like dust, like mountains crumbling. He breathes magic.

I consider that perhaps he is not a fool and this ‘Hogsmeade’ is a free place for those with magic, perhaps he thought himself somewhere safe or with friends.

I dislike the answer I must give him.

“No. You are outside the city of Camelot, in the kingdom of Uther.”

He looks at me oddly – a strange expression, like he would laugh but cannot remember how. His eyes go flinty for a second and I freeze.

“Is Camelot still standing?”

I nod, my throat held tight shut.

He does laugh now – a wheeze crossed with a bark. He looks sad.

“Who are you?”

I shake my head.

“Your name first.” I demand it foolishly; as though he has any reason to obey if he does not know me.

He stares. “I do not recall it.”

At first I think he must be lying but his face shows his confusion and disappointment.

I hesitate to give my own.

“I shall call you Dog, then. I am Guinevere.”

He looks at me strangely, licking his lips and giving again an expression of almost sadness.

“I know magics but nothing to heal you.” I say quietly. “You must stay in this forest. If Uther finds you he will have you killed.”

He closes his eyes and leans back into the earth in peace.

/

It is three days before I find a chance to visit Dog. I bring him chicken and bread as well as a pocket for water. The pocket bears the Pendragon seal.

He doesn’t recognise it.

/

“Where is Hogsmeade?”

“Will you show me your magic?”

“Do you remember anything yet?”

Dog rarely answers my questions. He never asks any of his own either and I do not offer forward information. He may not recognise the seal but he will surely recognise the holes in my story if I begin talking about my own life.

But I want to know about him – and more than that, I want to know about Hogsmeade, the place he thought he could use magic in safely.

So after the third week of silence I start talking.

“No one’s noticed that I keep disappearing.” My voice is sulkier than I intend it to be. “It’s a good thing, of course, but it stings.”

Dog blinks. He reaches for my hand tentatively and squeezes it lightly. I find myself blushing stupidly; it’s so nice to be liked for something other than my name.

He licks his lips. “You’re wonderful.”

I wrench my hand back and run.

/

I don’t visit Dog for the next two weeks. I almost manage to convince myself that it’s only because of all the visiting courtiers. Except that I still don’t believe they’d notice me leaving unless it was a feast. Proper women aren’t supposed to be noticed.

I find myself thinking of Dog a lot. I put together a basket of food eight different times but always talk myself out of it.

I dream of green light.

/

The next time I go to the forest Arthur sees me leaving. I don’t realise I’m being followed until I see the shadows behind me shift. By then it’s too late.

Dog slinks out from behind a tree and barks loudly. I trip in surprise and he turns human instinctively to catch me.

There’s a quiet swish from behind us and Arthur’s voice rings loud and clear.

“Step away from her.”

Dog growls. I remember, late, all I never told him.

/

There’s no battle between my brother and I.

Dog pushes me behind him and Arthur rushes him. His sword seems shaper than usual and I open my mouth to scream. I can’t remember the words to call magic towards me.

The sword clangs down. Dog has nothing to protect himself that I can see. Other than the transformation between dog and man I have seen him perform no magic since our meeting.

The sword hits empty air. The momentum topples Arthur forward and into the dirt. I stifle a hysterical giggle behind my hand. Dog appears next to me and pulls me up.

“Should we run?” His voice is hoarse and his arms shake. It occurs to me that I could hand him to Arthur with little resistance and no one would be any the wiser.

“Yes.” I nod carefully making certain that Arthur sees. I am terribly tired of the secrets.

“MORGANA!” Arthur’s scream echoes after us as we run.

/

I tell Dog the truth. He takes it in stride and tells me his own story. It is much, much weirder than my own.

I dream of green light.

\\\

The future is strange.

It hadn’t turned out like it was supposed to. Even with Camelot falling around me I had never thought my brother’s dream would fail for so long.

I never thought we could return to cowering in the shadows of normal people. Muggles, Sirius says they’re called.

Sirius is strange too. He’s gone back to being quiet and hidden like he was when we first met. He doesn’t talk to me anymore.

He explains the things he never had to explain before. The mark on his shoulder. The names he pleads with in his dreams.

I feel twisted inside at the thought of all the times I called it a tattoo – trying to goad him into telling his secrets – I try to apologise but he waves it away. I decide not to stop until he accepts it.

He says he’s sorry for trying to leave without me. He’s lying. He never wanted me to see this world.

/

Sirius’ friends – the ones he dreams of – stand around us. I lie into Sirius and pretend the sunbeams on his skin are real warmth.

They said they forgave him and I’ve yet to tell them he would have accepted it. I don’t know if I ever will; maybe I’ll let them live with it like he did.

The memories he’d shared with me stir in my mind.

I think of Arthur. I hadn’t asked him to take me back to Camelot. To whatever was left of it. I wanted to and desperately didn’t want to.

I think he went on his own.

/

I don’t have a wand. The future people look at me strangely when I use my magic.

I’m allowed to live in the castle.

I hated the house we lived in before but I want to return to it so desperately now.

It wasn’t Sirius of course. I loved him as something more than a brother or a friend but we were never lovers. I know that’s what they all thought. Think.

Sirius never tried to manage me. If I loved him for anything it was that.

/

This war is different to the one I left. The normal people – muggles – aren’t involved at all; the only fights are between ourselves.

I begin to despise the order of the phoenix. They don’t seem to understand the struggle for freedom some of us went through.

I can finally understand why Sirius didn’t want me to see this world.

/

James, Remus, Peter and Lily try to make me feel welcome. They don’t feel comfortable around me but they try which is more than anyone else does.

It’s all out of guilt, of course, the same as the guilt that I had when I went back to my brother. He tolerated it better than I ever do.

/

The castle opens its gates in September to hordes of children.

They make me want to weep – half happiness, half dreadful grief. I see Arthur and Sirius in the red ones, Merlin and myself in the green, Guinevere and Mordred in the yellow and Nimue in the blue.

The war does not yet reach inside the halls.

I dream of green light.

/


End file.
